


You.

by bevewrites



Category: Victoria (TV)
Genre: Drumfred, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Neck Kissing, cupboards, i can't believe i've listed sir robert peel as a fanfic character, is this rock bottom or have i peaked?, it's a good ol' 'oh no we're stuck in a cupboard together whatever shall we do' fic, not sexy... yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-19 04:15:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12402804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bevewrites/pseuds/bevewrites
Summary: “Don’t be angry with me, please. These days I feel you are the only other sane person in the world.”Set shortly after they return from France. Alfred finds himself locked in a cupboard with the man he was DEFINITELY not thinking about.





	You.

**Author's Note:**

> enjoy some wholesome drumfred, all set before the Incident That We Do Not Speak Of.  
> i'll admit i'm not entirely happy with this one, but i didn't want to leave it to rot so I'm posting it here! - b

The corridors of the palace felt narrower today, Alfred mused.  He wandered along them, knowing he should be with the Queen, or with Albert, or really anywhere, yet he couldn’t summon the sense of purpose lordship was supposed to bring. He thought about leaving. Just slipping through the back entrance and walking without stopping.  But it would feel wrong - it would be wrong to leave without… Fulfilling his duties. To God and the Queen. No one else. Amen.

He passed the Prime Minister in the corridor, noting a figure was absent from his side. A figure he so dearly loved to see. Alfred nodded at Peele and pushed the thought from his mind. With deliberation he did not think about Drummond, never Drummond. Not him, not Drummond’s fiancé, not the way he made him feel. Not his eyes, not his lips, not his throat. His gut boiled with all he tried to repress, a mix of anger and something richer. He could only dull the sensation with one thought: Drummond had made his decision; and her name was Florence.

He was pulled from his turmoil by a heavy thud, followed by a low, undiscernible noise. The sound had come from inside a cupboard he has been passing. Alfred paused, wandering what on earth was happening on the other side of the wall, but let his curiosity subside and continued on his aimless plight. Another thud sounded. A low groan followed, unarguably human. Alfred, now perplexed, decided to investigate, turning around and opening the door cautiously. It was a large cupboard and poorly lit, so he found he had to venture in past the threshold of the doorway to see anything. The door clicked shut behind him.

“Is anyone in here?” No answer. He fumbled in the dark for a candle and brought out matches from his pocket to light it. The cupboard was full of wooden shelves holding files of royal documents and political manuals. A shelf at the far end of the roomy cupboard shook slightly.

“I can see you are here… Please make yourself known.” A shuffling sound followed by sigh came from behind the shelf. And suddenly, Alfred was faced with the man he had been desperately avoiding and hopelessly wanting to see.

“Drummond.”

“Alfred.”

 “You were making quite the noise.” Alfred noted the peculiar way Drummond was hiding his left hand from sight, but understood all the same.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“There are more appropriate places to let your anger out, Drummond.” Alfred said, gesturing to the shallow dents in the wall. He hated himself for trying to appear blasé. He wanted to ask the man before him if he was all right, to hold his injured hand to his lips, to apologise. “What is it that frustrates you so?” Alfred said nothing, staring at the ground. In the silence, Alfred felt coldness wash over him once more. Drummond always complained that women were “too damn emotional”, but Alfred thought it might do him well to learn from them and open up to him once in a while. “I see. Well I’ll be leaving.”

Everything unsaid swum in his head as he reached for the door knob. It rattled in his hand, stuck. He applied more force, but it wouldn’t move. “Damn thing’s stuck.” He muttered, twisting the handle to no avail.

“That’s no use, Alfred.”

“Well. We’ll just have to call for help. HEL-“ Alfred’s cry barely left his  throat before he was silenced by Drummond’s hand over his mouth. He gave a muffled exclamation of shock.

“Don’t, please, I- I don’t want us to be found just yet, please.” He removed his hand from Alfred’s mouth.  Alfred stared at him blankly. “Don’t be angry with me, please. These days I feel you are the only other sane person in the world.”

Alfred’s expression softened. “I feel the same.” He realised he relished Drummond’s touch, even if it made breathing difficult. “But I can’t say willingly staying in a locked cupboard convinces me of your sanity.”

Drummond grinned. Alfred had missed that grin. “We haven’t had a moment alone since France, Alfred.” He felt a thrill in calling him by his first name – it was the only intimacy their situation allowed. “I want to… Discuss certain things.”

“Such as?”

“Well, Florence for a start.” Alfred sighed, exasperated. “Please, I know you don’t want to hear about her, but consider that it is difficult for me too. I’m am made to marry a women that I do not truly…”

“Love?”

“Yes, love.” He stared at Alfred for a moment too long, before looking away. “I just wanted to say that – well I don’t know how to say it really.”

“You don’t have to,” Alfred took Drummond’s bruised hand into his own, gently tracing over his reddened knuckles with his thumb. “it doesn’t need saying.” Drummond gazed at Alfred, a little breathless.

“Yes, but this may be my last chance. Alfred – if it were possible – and I know it is not and never shall be – and you may think me bizarre – just, if it were possible, I would not be marrying Florence, I would much prefer to, I would rather marry – oh God, I’m a fool, we should just get out of here-“

“No, Edward,” Alfred murmured, now holding both of his hands. “Tell me.”

Drummond swallowed. “I would rather marry you. I-I love-“ he dropped Alfred’s hands and raised them to cup his face “ _you_.”

Alfred closed the space between them, kissing him tentatively. He felt his composure melt as he broke away and saw Drummond grin while teary eyed. Then, he settled his hands on the other man’s shoulders and began to kiss him with the exploration of a first kiss and the passion of a last. Drummond returned the kiss with equal ardency, gripping the blonde man’s waist firmly. Everything poured out into the kiss; all they’d wanted to say, all they’d wanted to do - the longing thoughts, the debauched thoughts, every time they’d day-dreamed about doing exactly _this_.

Something in the kiss changed; it took on a desperate nature. Their tongues moved faster and with less care, their hands roamed with freedom.  Drummond pushed Alfred back against a table, forcing him to sit, while beginning to kiss his neck.

“These damn collars,” he muttered between kisses. “are too damn high. I hope they go out of fashion soon.”

“Well I suggest – ah – you get rid of it then.” Drummond grinned while fumbling with Alfred’s necktie. Just as he undid the knot, they heard the door knob turn, and hastily jumped apart, breathing heavily. Whoever was trying to get in also found the door impossible to budge.

“Is anyone in there?”

“Yes, yes, it’s Lord Paget… and Drummond. We’re trapped in here.”

“I’ll just fetch someone my lord, I won’t be long.”

Drummond let out a long sigh and leant against the shelves, watching Alfred sort out his necktie. “It’s a shame, I rather liked you all dishevelled.”

“Then I suggest you visit my quarters tonight, I may need help undressing.”

Drummond blushed and then laughed, a little surprised. “My, how forward you’ve become Lord Paget.”

“You didn’t think I’d let you off so easily after that?”

Drummond studied the man opposite him – he was acting out of character – Drummond was normally the bolder one, not Alfred. But the more he gazed at the cheeky grin plastered on Alfred’s face, the more he found he liked this change, and reveled in the fact that he was responsible for it. He had to admit he was intrigued to see how far this boldness would go, and yet he reigned in this thought at the sound of the door being slowly prised open. Realising this was their last second alone, he hastily whispered “We must be careful, Alfred.”

“Yes. So careful we shall be.” The glint in Alfred’s eye reassured Drummond. They left the cupboard, brushing off the apologies of the staff. They shared a final, secretive glance before parting ways, their thoughts of what the evening may hold.


End file.
